<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Old Bones by leebee511</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959942">Old Bones</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leebee511/pseuds/leebee511'>leebee511</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asphyxiation, Buried Alive, Gen, Original Story - Freeform, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, ghost au, mild whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:28:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leebee511/pseuds/leebee511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, he was just a fleeting ghost. He was simply old bones at the bottom of an unmarked grave.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Old Bones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAHAHAHA GUESS WHO GOT REALLY FAR BEHIND</p><p>I have to create tons of AUs to do these prompts smh</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He remembered how it felt—the tightness of his lungs. The dirt slowly suffocating him. </p><p>	Theo recalled frantically trying to keep the dirt out of his face, the sharp rocks cutting his fingers, despite the callouses. The grime that clung to the bed of his nails remained, despite the desperate attempts to wash his hands. </p><p>	He remembers the pressure that came with the piles of dirt and mud, how it weighed down on his chest, creating such a deep sense of claustrophobia that he started to panic. </p><p>	Theo wasn't the type to panic. His father had trained him well. He was the sole guardian of Nero deLuca; that was their job. He couldn't afford to panic. </p><p>	He tried to remember what his father told him, but he couldn't recall the steps he had to take despite his best efforts. He just froze. Theo was utterly still while the dirt was flung on top of him. It got in his eyes, blinding him. Theo couldn't even tell who was burying him. He didn't know how he got to this point. It was all a blur.</p><p>	By the time he moved, it had already been too late. The pressure suffocated him. Theo tried to dig for air, weaseling his way out. It was taking too long. He reached his arm out as far as he could, feeling the familiar burn of the cold winter wind hit his raw fingers. The freezing chill of the snow surrounded his hand, and he clung to that feeling. It hurt less than the residing weight of the cold, hardened mud. </p><p>	It hurt less than the betrayal of his friend. </p><p>	As the world became fuzzy, and his mouth and nostrils began to fill with soil, Theo cried. He never cries. </p><p>	But years of bottling emotions had to come to an end at some point, right? </p><p>	Nero was gone, lost so far into his own mind. Theo had lost a brother. And it was devastating. The pain from that hurt worse than the tons of dirt caving his chest in. </p><p>	***</p><p>	Theo watched as Abagail talked with the other ghosts in the room. She had finally asked the dreaded question. </p><p>	"How did you guys die?" </p><p>	Everyone froze. Nero's eyes widened, a look of anger crossing his face. He disappeared, and Theo couldn't help but wonder where he went. </p><p>	Lucien chuckled, rubbing his neck nervously. "Got really sick. Nothing too special." </p><p>	Abagail, not noticing the uncomfortableness that passed through the room. She nodded excitedly, urging them to continue, not understanding the weight of her words. Theo sighed, lost in thought, as he watched the group. </p><p>	"What about you, Theo?" </p><p>	He froze, staring at the girl, before smiling grimly. "Nothing you need to worry about." </p><p>	Before turning away from the young girl, he suppressed a shudder at the memories. He wasn't going to tell her about how he died. She didn't need to know what he went through. She was too young. </p><p>	Now, he was just a fleeting ghost. He was simply old bones at the bottom of an unmarked grave.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p><p>Please leave some comments and kudos! Constructive criticism is appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>